


Small Secrets

by glim



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bodyswap, Canon Era, Community: summerpornathon, Consent Issues, M/M, Team Gluttony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 15:31:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>But he's never known Merlin like this, inside out and with a desperation that makes him want to pull off Merlin's clothes, to rip them off if he has to with a promise to replace them.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Summerpornathon 2013 Challenge 1: Kink Grab Bag.

Arthur slams the door to Merlin's room shut behind his back and fumbles Merlin's trousers open as quickly as he can. He tries to be patient and he tries to go slowly, but this might be his only chance and Merlin can't know that _this_ is what Arthur decided to do in the hour they had to spend apart. He's left Merlin to play the part of prince in the Council chambers, awkward and furious inside Arthur's body, blaming magic and, inexplicably, himself for what's happened. 

Merlin will know what to--he's stood next to Arthur in those chambers countless times in the year since he's become Arthur's manservant. And Arthur--

\-- Arthur knows what he _should_ do, and it's not all similar to what he's going to do.

He might've lasted, Arthur thinks, if he only had to endure his senses stretching through Merlin's body. If he only had to see and feel the world the way Merlin does for one day, he would've been fine. The problem, Arthur knows as he fingers the length of Merlin's cock and feels it grow hard against the palm of his hand, is that all he can feel is Merlin. Not the world around him, only Merlin: the taste of his sweat and the sight of his pale skin and the scent of his body. 

And that--god, Arthur takes in a breath and holds it until he starts to feel dizzy--that might be the worst, the strange and familiar scent of warm skin and sweat, sunshine and dry grass, the thick musk of arousal. Arthur knows this scent, knows it as well as his own body, knows it in the way he does all the other small, guilty secrets that he keeps. 

But he's never known Merlin like this, inside out and with a desperation that makes him want to pull off Merlin's clothes, to rip them off if he has to with a promise to replace them. And he would--he'd replace them ten times over to be able to skim his hands over Merlin's chest and stomach, to tease him until he shuddered with need, to do it all with his own hands. 

Arthur thumbs the end of Merlin's cock and smiles at way Merlin's body reacts: a shiver of happiness, then anticipation. He likes this, he likes being teased and made to wait for the next touch, and he imagines that Merlin must like it, too. Maybe Merlin likes to start with slow, flitting touches before fisting his own cock, his slim body taut and pale on his narrow bed. Maybe his body remembers what he likes, and the way Arthur touches him and gets him hard play out those memories. 

There's something else, though, something that sparks beneath Merlin's skin and pricks at the back of Arthur's mind. Something bright and quick that Arthur can't quite grasp but that he knows is inseparable from Merlin's very being. It tickles at the edge of Arthur's senses, reminding him of the glint of Merlin's eyes, of the smile that quirks the corner of lips at the most inappropriately absurd moments, of the brush of his slim fingers over Arthur's armor, over his clothes, over his _skin_. 

God. Fuck. Arthur tightens Merlin's fingers around Merlin's cock, tugging roughly when he can't keep his hand steady. No, Merlin's hand, he thinks, and the thought sends a thousand tiny shivers through him until he's scrabbling at the door behind him with the other hand to try and stay upright. He come with a sudden, muffled cry before he's ready, unable to stop the wash of pleasure and relief. 

Arthur sinks to the floor, heart beating almost painfully hard, breath rasping. For a moment, he feels warmth and light; he even forgets who he is, forgets his guilt and his need, loses himself in that small space that is neither Merlin nor himself.

The outside door slams and startles Arthur. Before he can collect himself, he hears his own voice, but he can tell from the tone and cadence that it's really Merlin who's talking. He doesn't have to listen long to realize what it is that he feels beneath Merlin's skin, what he feels warming his own senses.

It seems Merlin has a secret, too.


End file.
